Black Cat Missing
by Arwensong
Summary: Noir has disappeared while on a mission and Solomon Sugar's been hired by Florian and Laila to find him. But which Noir has the detective found and who else is looking?
1. Chapter 1

"**Missing–One Black Cat"**

Solomon left the train station and stood on the dusty sidewalk, gathering his thoughts. Liverpool, England. About as far away from Ray Balzac Courland's normal, glamourous environment as he'd ever thought to look for him. Yet, his mischievous black cat was not here by choice, if rumors were true. Ray's friends feared that something had gone terribly wrong in his last escapade as Noir and he'd gone to ground. The elusive master jewel thief's entourage of misfits, lost without the sheltering wing of their guardian dark angel, had tried searching for him themselves for a week. When their efforts proved fruitless, however, it only took several minutes of heated debate before they'd decided to call upon an odd ally, Noir's supposed enemy. Without ever conceding Sugar was looking for "Noir" as much as Ray Courland, they begged him to find him first, and protect him from a bigger threat–Azura.

Solomon's narrow lips twisted into a wry smile as he reflected on the motives that had caused him to book a seat on the first ship to England and then a train to the Liverpool section of London. Ray had most of them fooled. They saw only the cool, capable man, the flippant hero who always arrived in time to save the day. The dapper, handsome man with his fine suits and his slim cigar in its expense holder, always so impeccably turned out no matter the time of day or the occasion. Courland was always comfortable, whether mingling with the titled guests at the opera or with the power brokers at an Ambassador's dinner. One would think _he_ was the son of a nobleman, trained from the cradle for exactly that type of life, he took to it so naturally.

Oh, Solomon saw all that, but he saw more as well. Observing people and looking for their weaknesses, well, it was a occupational habit. In the case of Ray Balzac Courland, it was difficult to say whether some of the man's hidden characteristics were weaknesses or in fact his greatest strengths, the very qualities that had saved him from becoming another Romwell, Jr.

Solomon Sugar, private detective, shook himself out of his contemplative mood, and started to walk briskly. Stand too long like that by a train station and he was just looking to attract the attention of a pickpocket. Or worse. Time to find a hotel, get something to eat and then begin his search for the missing Noir. Except...

Just then, as he passed an alleyway, he felt the slightest brush of cloth against his shoulder and hip. Moving faster than would seem possible for such a scholarly looking man, he whirled, catching the dark clad figure that was creeping back into the alley. His large hand closed around a slender wrist, and he felt a tingle at the contact.

Wild green eyes looked up at him from a tanned, too thin face.

"Ray?" He whispered, shocked. The other man, hardly more than a boy really, pulled frantically in his bid for freedom but Solomon held firm, tightening his hold on the thin wrist. He thought regretfully of the pain he must be causing as the other man continued to twist and pull in vain. Solomon dropped his valise and reached out to clasp Ray's far shoulder, again, noting with dismay how thin it was, shocked to feel bones protruding where there were smooth muscles mere weeks earlier. Had the young man eaten nothing since he disappeared?

"Hold on, stop fighting, Ray, it's me, Sugar...Solomon Sugar...no need to carry on like this." He spoke softly, soothingly, as if to a frightened child, or spooked animal.

Solomon could see no light of recognition in Ray's eyes, just panic at being caught. What was just as perplexing was the way Ray was struggling–he showed none of the finesse in fighting that Ray normally had–thank God, or Solomon never would be able to restrain him. Still, it was a cause for concern to see him so...so not himself. It clearly was Ray, the eyes, the face, the form, yes, even despite the startling loss of weight, it was still obviously his lithe body. Yet it was as though some stranger lived inside Ray's mind.

"Let me go, m'sieur, let me go!" The voice was Ray's, but Solomon noted that it sounded much more heavily accented than his friend normally spoke English. Ray prided himself, as well he should, in being able to speak English flawlessly, the same way he spoke German, Russian, Spanish, and several other languages, along with his native tongues of French, Arabic and Berber. This was yet another odd piece to the puzzle. To Solomon's knowledge, an amnesiac might lose memories, but if he has access to knowledge of a language, wouldn't he be able to speak it in his accustomed fashion?

"Ray, let me help you. Come, let us find a room..."

To Solomon's shock, a resigned look came into Ray's eyes at that suggestion and he stopped struggling. The younger man slumped against the detective, who remained alert for a trick of some sort, something that Noir might try to throw him off balance. He really wasn't expecting, however, what came next.

"How much will you pay then, m'sieur? It is extra if you want me to go to your rooms with you. Less if we just take care of your 'needs' right here, and you pay me and let me go. And my name is Noir."

As though it were of no moment, Noir loosened his ragged clothing enough to give Solomon Sugar a glimpse of curved flanks, slightly paler than his normal skin tone, but still a lovely light golden color. Such a contrast to his pale skin, Solomon thought, distractedly. The ragged pants fell to the ground and only the tattered shirt covered the lovely line of ass and back as Noir leaned against the wall.

"Well, m'sieur, it is getting cold, do we have a deal?" The green eyes looked at him challengingly now.

Taking a deep breath, Solomon decided this would have to be cleared up in the warmth of a hotel room. And a telegram sent to Florian at once.

"We have a deal. I'll pay you triple your normal rates to come to my room with me. Now pull up your pants and come along...no tricks, mind you."

Grabbing Ray's thin arm firmly as soon as he's pulled up his poor excuse for pants, Solomon hurried him along to the nearest hotel.

Focused on Ray, Solomon Sugar didn't notice the swarthy complexioned man standing across from the alley who looked at his pocketwatch when they came out and made notes in a small booklet as they headed down the street. If Sugar had not been so worried about Ray's strange behavior he undoubtedly would have noticed that the man then followed them at a discreet distance and took up a position in the lobby of the hotel they entered.

But, Solomon Sugar was very worried.


	2. Chapter 2

Black Cat Missing–Chapter Two

_Author's note: Gorgeous Carat is the creation of You Higuri; I am borrowing his characters out of deepest admiration for the entertainment of others; I make nothing from this endeavor and seek only to provide more enjoyment to the fans of Mr. Higuri's work; the characters of Matilde and Cora are the original creations of writer Astra Plain and are borrowed by me from time to time with her permission and my deepest gratitude_

_Paris_

Florian looked at the telegram from Solomon Sugar with trepidation while Laila watched him impatiently. She barely waited for the servant to close the door behind him before voicing her disapproval at his delay.

"Hurry up! He must have uncovered news of Noir! Maybe Sugar's found him already!" Laila's dark eyes shone with excitement.

Florian looked up from his nervous perusal of the paper in his hand. "Or it could be bad news. My mother used to say that telegrams never bring good news. But, I guess there's only one way to find out."

Sliding a long elegant finger along the envelope to open it, he slid the paper out and unfolded the telegram. Thoughtfully holding it so that Laila could read it at the same time, Florian quickly scanned the contents. Amethyst eyes met brown in bewilderment after looking at the terse message sent by the detective.

Laila, characteristically, was the first to speak.

"I'm not sure...is it good news...or bad?"

The blond aristocrat firmed his lips and refolded the single page, slipping it into his pocket.

"Ray has been found, that can't be anything but good," he said decisively. "We must now make plans to join Detective Sugar in London and help him with this mystery of what has happened to him. Thin to the point of starving, dressed in rags, and there is something else that Detective Sugar only hints at. We must hurry. Run over to Matilde or Cora with a message from me, asking if one of them can take charge of Noel for us, if the first can't do it maybe she'll know if the other is available. You'd better handle this message yourself. I'll write something appropriately flowery out for you and then I'll go speak with Noel and get him ready while you run the message over. I think we both must leave as soon as arrangements can be made. Solomon says he can't travel with Ray in his current condition. Ray is either in much worse shape than merely very thin or there is more wrong than he says."

Not wasting any more time in talk, Laila rushed off to change into clothes appropriate for visiting the society ladies and Florian sat at his writing desk to compose the request for a temporary caregiver for Noel as well as a reply to the detective. As they'd agreed when Solomon Sugar had left on his mission, his communication had been cryptic purposely; the last thing they wanted was for word to get out that businessman Ray Balzac Courland was missing. Florian and Laila knew that Ray would not thank them for raising such an alarm. Not only would the persons who did business with Ray as a moneylender be interested in such news, but the last thing they needed was for Azura to get wind of Ray's disappearance–assuming he wasn't behind it!

Thus, the message that Detective Sugar sent may have seemed odd to the telegraph office, but not worth passing on to anyone else.

"Located missing black cat stop thin half starved doesn't know me stop can't travel with it yet stop might need a friendlier pair of eyes as not himself stop make that not his recent self stop looking out for old litter mates stop"

Florian paused in his tasks to stare at the message again. What could the message mean? He understood that Sugar had located Ray, black cat having always been one of his teasing nicknames for Ray. Their relationship was one that Florian never understood. They were seemingly enemies, yet Ray loved to tweak the older man's ego, and to Florian's discerning eye, Sugar liked him all the better for it. Both of the other men reveled in the type of danger that turned Florian's stomach. Sugar claimed he was going to catch Ray as Noir some day, yet it seemed to Florian that he'd had opportunity after opportunity to do so and found one excuse after another not to act on it. That is why he'd suggested Sugar to Laila when their worry over Ray's continued absence reached the point of panic. This quick result proved their trust was well-placed. There truly was no one else who was a greater expert on the man who lived a double life as Noir.

Except...Azura, the man now known as the American financier, Romwell, Noir's boyhood friend turned greatest enemy. If Ray were weakened in any way, he would be not a cat, but a mouse in Azura's paws.

Florian completed his task. There was no time for idle thoughts. He had to pack Noel's bags then get his own packed for a trip to London...of indeterminate length. He hoped Matilde or Cora came through. He didn't want to drag Noel along into whatever awaited them in London.

_London_

Solomon looked at Noir, now freshly bathed and clothed in a pair of his own trousers and shirts, the legs turned up since they had fallen a couple inches too long, and the sleeves of the white shirt rolled up on the thin but still muscular brown arms. The newly washed hair had been towel dried and was pushed back, behind his ears on the side and away from his forehead on top, being too long now to skim his arched eyebrows roguishly, as it had before.

_Ah, my black cat, what has happened to you? _ Solomon wondered as he watched Noir eat the meal he'd had delivered to their room. The green-eyed man at as though starving, he noted, then realized that there likely was no "as though" about it–he probably was starving.

Just as Solomon reached that point in his thoughts, Noir looked up. "You aren't eating?" He looked self-conscious. "Did you want some of this, m'sieur?" There was still about a third of the food left and Ray was looking at it longingly, but he forced himself to put his fork down and push his empty plate away. Solomon forced away the smile that threatened...it wasn't difficult given that the sight of the hungry young man's generosity made his eyes burn...and shook his head.

"I ate on the train," he lied easily. "I ordered all of that for you." He had sent a telegram to Florian and Laila upon checking in, and took that opportunity to order room service, tipping enough that he hoped he secured the manager's discretion.

Now Solomon had the dilemma of what to do with Ray, who was still as skittish as a cat, while he tried to take a bath and wash the grime of the train ride from his tired body. He'd been incredibly lucky in finding Ray so swiftly after leaving the center of London for this area of Liverpool, acting on a tip from an old friend. But he'd moved swiftly and hadn't had a bath or a rest since leaving Paris. He was in desperate need of both.

There was no hope for it. He'd have to count on his cat's desire for the money he'd been promised keeping him here. Besides, if he truly had no memory of his recent life and was, as Solomon feared was all too true, living on the street and getting by as a pickpocket and God only knew what else, then he should be happy to spend a few days in a warm hotel room, enjoying three square meals a day.

And servicing the needs of a tall skinny Frenchman, he asked himself cynically. Not if he could pinch my wallet instead, and I wouldn't blame him. He has no reason to think I would expect him to "perform" and I dare not tell him as it would only raise his suspicions.

Making up his mind to handle this moment by moment, Solomon stood up suddenly, causing Noir to jump back in his chair and look up guardedly.

"You ready for some fun and games now, I suppose?" The green eyes had the challenge back, and if Solomon hadn't thought his heart had been hardened beyond all possible feeling years earlier, he would have sworn it was pierced by the spark of pure bravery...and bravado...in those emerald eyes.

"Eventually...my black cat," he replied in a mild voice. "I believe I will be taking a bath first. Please forgive me my lack of trust, but I will have to lock you in here...without my money...while I do so. Do I have to tie you up or can I trust that you wish to earn your wages? Let me assure you I am quite good at knots and while you might escape...in time...I am not one to linger at my bath. Not like you, my good man."

Noir's eyes looked panicked at the mention of being tied up. He quickly assured Solomon that he could be trusted, his chin lifting at the very idea that he would welch on the deal. Solomon laughed softly.

"Ah, my black cat, you'd break any deal so shamefully made. To get you back you yourself..." At the confused look sent his way, Solomon just shook his head. "Never mind me, my mind is wandering. How old are you, Noir? If you don't mind my asking, of course."

The chin came up again. "Old enough."

"Of course," Solomon said smoothly, not wanting to upset his guest, captive? He wondered what Noir considered himself. "Well, given that it's the year...you do know what year it is, don't you, or does time fly by so on the street you lose track?"

He was acting on the instincts that made him such a good detective. He knew Noir wouldn't tell him his age. His real age, being so young was a sore spot with Ray Courland as it was, yet in any other man, it would be a source of pride to have achieved so much in so little time, having come from such a background. So Solomon was not all that surprised when that stubborn chin lifted again and said arrogantly,

"It is 1895, any idiot knows that!"

He wasn't surprised, but his heretofore unsuspected heart did sink. How did Ray Courland get into this condition? And even more importantly, how was he going to get him out of it?

Solomon was thinking of this question as he walked down the hotel hall to the bathroom and didn't notice the man who crept up behind him until it was almost too late. As it was, he only had a chance to cry out once before he was struck on the head with a large club.


	3. Chapter 3

**Black Cat Missing–Chapter Three**

_Author's note: Gorgeous Carat is the creation of You Higuri; I am borrowing her characters out of deepest admiration; I make nothing from this endeavor and seek only to provide more enjoyment to the fans of Ms. Higuri's work; I dedicate this story to Astra Plain, with my deepest gratitude for her help and encouragement._

_(Setting: Liverpool, England)_

At the first sounds of a scuffle coming from the hallway, Noir lifted his head from the soft pillow on which he'd been resting it. By the time the shout came, he'd already jumped from the bed and had run lightly to the door. Pressing his ear to the thin wood, he heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming closer. Looking around the room for something to use in case his new protector's attacker should come into the room, which seemed highly likely, the lock he slid into place notwithstanding, his eyes fell upon a heavy ebony cane that must have been left behind by the room's prior occupant. Perfect.

Noir was about to take up his position behind the door to surprise whoever entered, when he caught the sounds of two men talking outside it. He frowned. Two men changed the odds significantly. He hesitated, looking at the window and considering how far up the room might be from the ground when another plan formed. Did he dare?

Then his sharp hearing picked up the words being spoken on the other side of the doorknob as the men tried to turn it in vain.

"You think he's in there?"

"Has to be...they came in together...Boss says the Frenchman wouldn't have let him out of his sight once he found him."

"But he went off to the head like that, Nick, wouldn't the guy have slipped his lead like he did on me and Joe?"

"Probably's got him tied up like you, only not like you cos he probably did a better job of it. Joe sure got his when the Boss found the guy gone after all the trouble he'd gone to gettin' 'im in that condition and all, before the Boss could even see him like that. See if that creepy doctor with that voice did his work right. All's I know is he gave me the shivers as bad as the Boss. You got that lock picked yet or what?"

The exchange caused Noir to shake. He thought he'd recognized the first man's voice, now he knew it. He had gotten away from him before. He wasn't sure of much, but he knew the other place was bad and the tall fair haired man, for all his strangeness in seeming to know Noir when Noir had no recollection of him at all, was far better than the other place.

Glancing at the window to the room, he moved quickly to it, silent on his bare feet. He swung open the casement and looked out. A twenty foot drop. Not impossible. As the door rattled ominously, he scanned the room for something he could use to improve his plan. The sheets. Perfect.

Knotting them rapidly, since it was apparent the thugs had abandoned their attempt at picking the lock that Noir could have been through in seconds and were now attempting to break through the door as quietly as possible. Noir wondered why no one had come yet and found the fair haired man. They must have disposed of him in the bathroom.

Finishing with his knotting of the bedsheets, he dropped one end out the window and tied the other to the bedpost. He then dropped a shoe out the window for good measure. Pleased with his efforts he hid behind a tall chest of drawers on the far side of the room. It offered scant protection but he was counting on the men rushing right in and going straight to the window. From the way they were battering the door, he didn't feel too confident that hiding behind it was a good idea any longer.

His instincts were good. With a final strong blow from the two men's bodies hitting it together, the lock didn't give but the door's hinges did, and it fell open from the wrong side! The side where Noir had been standing with the cane raised high a few minutes earlier. From his new hiding place, behind the chest, he grinned as the two men fell to the ground in a awkward pile. He briefly considered whether he should try rushing past them and out of the room, but again, he trusted to his instincts to stay where he was. Besides, he felt strangely reluctant to leave his new protector behind, at least not without first determining if he was alive or dead.

Noir held his breath as the two men cursed at each other and clambered to their feet. As he'd hoped, they ran directly to the window, bumping and pushing into each other in their rush, the one man almost falling out, he leaned so far over in his effort to look out.

"He's gotten away, he has! Look, you can see his bloody shoe! Quick, he must have run off that way, let's get after him. How far could he get on one shoe?"

They ran out without a backward glance. Noir waited a few minutes then he cautiously crept out into the hallway, still clutching the ebony cane. The hallway was empty. Of course, it was the middle of the day when few people were in their hotel rooms and the hotel staff had completed their cleaning duties for the day, but still, it was odd that no one had inquired about the noise. Noir shook his head and wondered how he knew that He had to find the man Sugar and get them both out of this strange place.

Noir went to the door marked Water Closet and opened it gingerly. There, sitting propped against the wall, was the fair haired man, eyes closed, blood dripping from somewhere on the back of his head, staining his white collar. Noir crouched by his side, his green eyes narrowed in concern.

"M'sieur, M'sieur!" Noir tried shaking him gently. "M'sieur Sugar, wake up, we must get away, maintenant!" He shook him more forcefully. Getting no response, he stood and went to the washbasin. Using one of the towels that were stacked nearby, he wet it with cold water and applied it to the large lump that was forming on the back of the other man's head. He used a second towel to bath the front of his face liberally with the cold water, relieved when the light blue eyes started to flicker.

"Ray...must get to Ray." Solomon bolted upright, moaning in pain the moment he did. Noir crouched down again and gave him a shoulder to lean on.

"You are hurt. Lean on me. We must go away as quickly as you are able, m'sieur, they...the others, the bad ones...they are after me."

Solomon looked at Ray, his senses coming back to him. Somehow, Ray must have gotten past the men in the hall and to him here. Despite the pain in his aching head, Solomon had to smile. His black cat really was quite amazing. Leaning on the shoulder that was wiry and strong for all its thinness, Solomon pulled himself to his feet. He fought off the nausea that the head pain caused.

"I think you are quite right. My bath must wait and we must find a new hotel. The accommodations here leave something to be desired. I believe we must go back for my bag, however, and some fresh clothes. Shoes for you."

Noir smiled at him, a captivating smile, that made the detective forget his aching head.

"I think I should perhaps look in one of these rooms for a pair of shoes...unless m'sieur travels with a spare pair?"

Perplexed but not deeming it worth untangling at the moment, Solomon let Noir lead him back to their room. He looked bemused at the door, lying askew on the floor, and watched as Noir efficiently packed his belongings into his carryall, along with some items from the hotel He made no comment when Noir expertly picked a lock on a couple of the hotel rooms and helped himself to a new set of clothes as well as a pair of shoes. Newly outfitted, and carrying the ebony cane, he was beginning to look much more like his usual self. On a whim, Solomon grabbed a top hat from the bed of the last room Noir broke into a put it into his bag. The younger man looked at him questioningly.

"For later," he said. He was given that smile again. Really, Solomon thought, as they slipped down the servants' stair and out the back entrance, the whole episode must only have taken about thirty minutes from the time he left the room for his bath to the time Noir and he completed their own search of the other guests' rooms. No wonder no one ever caught the Master Thief Noir. If he was this fast when not fully himself, one could only marvel at how swift he must be when at his full capacity!

As the two men left the hotel, keeping close watch for any followers this time, Solomon tried to think of their next step, and how best to get word to Florian and Laila of their change in plans!

The whip cracked mercilessly across the mid-section of the large man who'd just completed reporting his failure to "the Boss."

His scream of pain brought no smile to the handsome visage, a bad sign for the man. Repeated cracks of the whips brought more screams, until finally the screams stopped. The whip continued for some time after that. The man's partner in failure was a trembling, whimpering wreck long before that point was reached. But to his surprise, the Boss didn't even spare him a glance. He merely cast his whip down and with a look, gave the command to have the remains of his punishment taken from his presence. His men knew what to do.

Joe had failed his Boss twice. That was unforgivable. Nick vowed that he would not do the same.

The quiet voice spoke to him.

"You will have another chance. I am expecting others to show up at that hotel. They should arrive sometime tomorrow, possibly in the morning, possibly even in the middle of the night tonight. A blond man and a foreign woman. You will not capture them. You will follow them to where my Noir is and report back to me."

Nick swallowed. A blond man and a woman, even a foreign woman did not seem like a particularly distinctive description. He dared to ask a question, afraid to do so, but knowing that to follow the wrong couple would be a worse mistake.

"Boss, sir, how will I know it's the right blond guy and foreign woman? Just saying there could maybe be more than one...just in case?"

"There will not be more than one like this blond man. His eyes are the color of Amethysts. You do know what Amethysts are, don't you?"

"Yes, Azura, sir."

"Good. Then find the blond man with the Amethyst eyes and he will lead us to my Noir."


	4. Chapter 4

**Black Cat Missing – Chapter Four**

_Author's note: Gorgeous Carat is the creation of You Higuri; I am borrowing her characters out of deepest admiration; I make nothing from this endeavor and seek only to provide more enjoyment to the fans of Ms. Higuri's work; I dedicate this story to Astra Plain, with my deepest gratitude for her help and encouragement._

_(Setting: Liverpool, England)_

Florian and Laila were exhausted when they arrived in London. Michel, due to leave for the Orient, certainly would have canceled his plans and transported them personally had he known of the urgency but neither of them wanted to divulge the secret of Ray's disappearance, even to his cousin. Especially to his cousin would likely have been Ray's opinion of the matter. So, they merely told Michel they'd missed the ship Ray had arranged for them to take in order to meet him in London and therefore they had to get to London as quickly as possible so he wouldn't be angry at them. Well, Florian had said "worry" but Laila, the better actress, had rolled her eyes, and mouthed, "furious" behind Florian's back.

After laughing at how his cousin made his household jump to do his bidding, Michel had secured them passage on the first available ship crossing the channel from Calais. He even arranged for his carriage to take them there, sparing Florian a smelly train ride. Of course, it wasn't a particularly smoothcrossing and Florian was a very bad sailor, becoming ill as soon as they weighed anchor. But, he grit his teeth and bore it as best he could. Laila, repressing all thoughts about how different it was traveling with him than with the robust Noir, was able to charm the first mate into bringing her some hot water and she made Florian drink some of her soothing herbal tea. He accepted it thankfully and tried to not resent her unladylike vigor as she strode jauntily around the deck, talking cheerfully to the sailors.

Both of them were relieved to set foot on England's shore. They immediately hired a carriage to take them to the address in Liverpool where Sugar's wire had said he was staying.

Once there, Florian was feeling faint and nauseous; pretty much as he always did after traveling any significant distance, especially over water. In this case, his concern about Ray added to his stomach distress. But, his innate good manners made him insist that Laila sit down on one of the large wingback chairs in the lobby while he went to the desk to check in and inquire discreetly after their friends. Laila was too tired from taking care of him on the trip to make even a token protest. Instead, she sank wearily into the cushions and closed her eyes briefly. It was only late morning but she hadn't slept at all the night before...or the night before that.

While Florian stood at the counter and had a low-voiced conversation with the clerk on duty, Laila's attention was caught by a swarthy, brutish looking man standing only a few feet away, slightly behind her chair and to the left. She peered around the tall side of the chair to get a better look at him. Tall, with broad shoulders and meaty looking hands, he had the look of a professional boxer. He was talking rather urgently to an overly made up woman.

"Maisy, I'm telling you, the Boss said I was to find a blond guy with a dame who looked foreign. But there's been all kinds in here already today. That guy's the third blond already. I knew it would be like this! Just my luck. You sure about the eye color?"

"Sure, I'm sure."

Laila slouched back down into the cushions, hoping the man hadn't seen her when she cam in. It didn't seem like he had, he'd been too busy talking to the woman and then his attention was caught by Florian. She was grateful that she'd followed Noir's rule about dressing Anglo when going into a city among unknown people. She still stood out with her dark skin and Eastern features, but at least her "foreign" appearance was far less noticeable when she conformed enough to wear Western fashion...and feminine fashions at that! She vowed never to complain to Noir about the silly shoes and skirts again! Her attention was drawn back to the bickering couple.

"You'd better be better than sure, because if you're wrong about these green eyes, I'm just telling you, you're gonna be one sorry dame." His voice got louder as he shook his fist at the woman.

"And I'm telling _you_, Nicky, that you must have heard your creepy boss wrong, and thinking for _absinthe_was _amethyst_. You never do listen so good."

Laila winced at the high pitched nasal whine that carried easily through the small lobby. In that voice, with its harsh Liverpool accent, the two words did sound kind of the same, Laila mused. She covered her mouth as the woman continued.

"Whoever heard of a bloke with _amethyst_ colored eyes? He _must_ have said _absinthe _colored eyes, though why he couldn't just have said _green_ like any normal bloke is beyond me!"

Laila risked a peek around the other side of the chair and saw that he had stiffened and was keeping his head angled towards the other side as he talked, away from the couple. Good. She knew he had excellent hearing. Now she had to hope the clerk didn't, or at least that he had no reason to alert the pair to the existence of a blond man with amethyst colored eyes in that very room.

"Well, if there's one thing Azura ain't, it's a normal bloke. Keep your eyes peeled then for a guy with green eyes. He'll lead us to Noir, he said. You'd better hope you're right about the absinthe or I'm a dead man."

A few minutes later, Laila heard footsteps approaching. Peeping from behind a handy newspaper that someone had left behind, she saw that Florian had come near, but then turned and was looking toward the dining room at the other end of the lobby, as though considering a meal. With a subtle nod, as though making up his mind, he headed over to the dining room, leaving Laila alone. She was relieved. She had been afraid his chivalry would have made him walk right up to her–the worst thing he could have done. She'd hoped he would have put his hat back on, low, to shield his eyes, but no such luck.

Laila rolled her eyes, disgusted. Expecting the Duke de Rochefort to wear a hat indoors merely because it might save his hide? How silly of her. Then she sighed. She should count her blessings. At least he hadn't walked up and introduced himself to the villains! Ray and she had been a good influence on the little lord after all.

Giving Florian a head start, she waited a moment, then Laila got up and casually walked out the front door, hoping that Florian had been able to figure out a way to escape from the dining room– other than from the same way he went in, that is.

To Laila's surprise, when she stepped outside and looked up and down the street, she immediately saw Florian's slim form. There he was, hat pulled low over his distinctive eyes, arms folded across his chest, casually leaning against the corner of the building to her right,. She almost giggled–he looked like he was imitating Noir! As soon as she was sure she was out of sight of the couple inside the hotel's lobby, she hurried over to him, smiling.

"What's so funny? Didn't you hear those two? You must have! That woman had a voice that would shatter glass! And that bruiser!" Florian shuddered. "You heard whom he mentioned, didn't you?"

"Of course! I was right under their ugly noses, wasn't I?"

"Then why are you smiling? Ray and Solomon aren't at the hotel. Their room was ransacked yesterday, the clerk told me, but all that was left of them were some sheets! Dangling outside the window of all things!"

"Was that all the clerk told you? You were talking a while." Laila was back to business. In truth, she found that good news, as well as the presence of the bruiser and his stupid girlfriend. A searching Azura was one who didn't presently have Ray in his clutches. The news could be worse...much worse.

Florian frowned. "Just that he really didn't have much time to spare to me...but then he kept talking! I don't think Solomon chose very wisely. Apparently there were several crimes in that hotel yesterday. Would you believe in addition to the room being ransacked that Ray and Solomon were in, other guests had their rooms broken into too? Just clothes from what he said, but still! Disgraceful!"

He looked at Laila, who was beaming from ear to ear. Maybe he'd better find her a place to rest and eat before they continued their search for Ray and Solomon. She must be getting light-headed, he decided.

_tbc..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Black Cat Missing – Chapter Five**

_Author's note: Gorgeous Carat is the creation of You Higuri; I am borrowing her characters out of deepest admiration; I make nothing from this endeavor and seek only to provide more enjoyment to the fans of Ms. Higuri's work; I dedicate this story to Astra Plain, with my deepest gratitude for her help and encouragement._

Noir looked at the sleeping man on the bed. He didn't know why he was still here with the man.. He should be trying to find...something? Someone? He had a sense of something missing, something important. A name was trying to come through the mist that seemed to fog his mind lately, but the harder he tried to clear it, the thicker it became. It was confusing.

Some things came naturally, like this English language, yet he didn't think in it. He spoke it if the person spoke to him in English, but he had to concentrate. His thoughts were in another language. When this man first spoke to him, he used the language in Noir's head that none of the people around him were using. French, he said. And he called him Ray, which Noir knew was him, but it was a name from his long ago childhood, not a name that anyone used any longer. At least, he didn't think anyone did. Not even Azura called him that.

Azura. Noir could picture his friend, standing so tall and strong in the Moroccan sun, sometimes the only shield between Noir and desperate harm was that slim, sure figure. His friend and protector, his brother of the heart. Azura. If only he could find him now, he would be safe. That had been a truth of Noir's world ever since the darkness became a friend, surely it was truth in this confusing, cold, mist filled world of pale, English speaking people.

Still, Noir frowned. Somewhere in the mists that filled his mind, much as the fog filled the gray cityscape that was London, some other truth remained. Another name lingered just out of reach. He wasn't stupid. Noir had seen his reflection in the mirror of the bathroom he'd found the tall blond man in. He looked very different than he remembered himself looking. He was taller, for one thing. And he needed a shave. He remembered now that in the other place he'd been in, the place he'd escaped from, that man he'd hated had handed him a razor and bade him shave. Noir had thought it a silly thing to do, but to his surprise, his normally smooth jaw had been bristly when he'd felt it.

One of the first things he'd done when he'd secured them new lodging was to shave, disliking the unfamiliar, rough feeling of his unshaven face. He borrowed the razor and shaving brush from his companion, Solomon, who'd watched him without comment, only assisting him when he had difficulty knowing how best to shave his upper lip without cutting himself.

Noir shivered slightly, remembered that firm hand as it had held his chin, and the touch of the blade moving over his lip gently. Solomon had looked so serious as he finished shaving Noir, wiping away the extra soap, his brow creased in concentration. Trying to lighten the mood, Noir had smiled up at him from his position, sitting cross-legged and shirtless on a chair in front of the dresser. A basin of water stood on the dresser and a large oval mirror was on the wall behind it in this room, so there was no escaping Noir's older visage. He'd looked at it as he cocked an eyebrow up at Solomon's face in the mirror.

"This is silly, _non_? You are beaten by thugs, we escape through a window, and here we are, worrying over if I am pretty enough. _Absurdit__é__._ I think perhaps it is time for you to rest. You look quite pale, _m'sieur_."

The tall man had smiled ruefully. "I agree...on all counts. You are looking quite pretty now that we've cleaned you up a bit, and although I don't think the time was ill spent, it is a bit absurd that we had to flee out a window. Most foolish of me to be caught unaware like that. I can only say it is unlike me also and I shall see to it that it doesn't happen again. I thank you for your assistance. Even with your memory impaired you are more than a match for most men, my black cat. Can I trust that you will still be here if I do rest? And will you please call me Solomon? Though I have to say, _m'sieur_ is an improvement over some of the things you've called me in the past "

Noir found the smile a singularly attractive one, and had returned it with his own engaging grin, little knowing the effect it had on his companion. Catching his breath at the sight of those sparkling green eyes smiling at him and the even white teeth biting lightly on the full lower lip while the now clean shaven upper one quirked upward in amusement, Solomon mumbled something about being tired and turned toward the bed.

Swift to apologize for wearing him out after his injury, Noir moved forward to help Solomon take off his jacket. He helped him get settled under the covers of the large double bed in the room, after assuring him that the door was securely locked, that he didn't need anything further, and that he would be there when Solomon awoke from his rest.

Which is what brought Noir to his current vigil by Solomon's bedside. He brushed his hand over the sleeping detective's fair hair. The man looked younger in his sleep, more vulnerable. He found himself drawn to him, trusting him more than was warranted by such a short acquaintance, and yet, something told Noir that he wasn't the missing piece to the puzzle. Still...he had to be sure...

Noir steadied himself by placing one hand on the pillow on the far side of the sleeping man's head. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to Solomon's, finding them warm and firm, yet soft. His tongue slipped out tentatively and tasted...and then lightly traced the outline of those lips, so different from his own. He felt a responsive spark of arousal in his groin, and he deepened the kiss even as he acknowledged somewhere deep in his consciousness that this wasn't the answer he'd been seeking. This was pleasant, and he sensed it could be more than pleasant...but it wasn't what he'd been missing even as he felt the large hand come around to the back of his head and gently hold him steady as the mouth beneath his opened to his questing tongue.

Blue eyes were looking at him searchingly.

Solomon gently moved Noir's head away from his own, and asked, somewhat breathlessly, "Is this what you really want, Ray...I mean, Noir?"

Noir closed his eyes against that penetrating gaze. His body had known much harsher treatment than what could be found here. He knew that with a certainty that held no doubt. And still, the question lingered between them. Did he want this? His body did, certainly, and yet, he knew... with whatever part of him was not fourteen...that same part of him that shaved, and liked cigars and top hats and fancy clothes... that while he might enjoy this for the moment, it was not what he wanted. It wasn't the missing piece of himself that had sent him fleeing his captors before and kept him alive on the streets for the couple of weeks that he roamed the misty London streets, trying to get his bearings.

"I'm lost," he finally answered, not liking how vulnerable this strange, new, adult voice sounded. He noted absently that they'd been speaking in French.

"I know," Solomon answered quietly. "But we'll find a way to find you again, the real you, the one you've grown into. I think you'll be glad to get back to yourself again. You have more friends than me looking for you, you know. Or maybe you don't. I have to find a way to get word to them but once we do, I think we'll be able to solve this problem. Until then..." He looked wryly at his former adversary. "For now, I think it best if we forego any such amorous activities, at least until I am sure you are more yourself. I promise to be a perfect gentleman if you wish to rest a while also. Although perhaps you would do well to sleep on top of the cover? You can use that extra blanket from the closet as a covering if it gets chilly."

Glad that he wasn't being consigned to the chair or floor to sleep, and feeling annoyed with himself for his squeamishness, which he felt sure was not at all like himself, Noir rejected that notion. Muttering, "don't be silly, I trust you," he pulled down the covers in order to crawl in next to Solomon. Within moments, he was sound asleep, a thin but wiry arm thrown carelessly over the other man's chest.

As he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, Solomon Sugar thought to himself how like Noir, his irksome black cat, that was. To blithely ignore the fact that it wasn't a matter of whether Noir trusted Solomon...but whether Solomon trusted himself! Or Noir, he thought grumpily, as his bed partner snuggled closer in his sleep, causing him to stifle another groan.

There was no way he was getting any sleep at all, Solomon realized. Not when he had Ray Courland in bed next to him and he couldn't do a thing about it. Surely this was a hell especially designed for him?

Laila decided that she was in a hell especially designed just for her. There was no other explanation for how she came to be trapped in one of the dingiest parts of London with one of France's highest born nobles, with surely France's most delicate stomach, and yet the owner of that delicate organ felt that he was genetically predestined to take care of her! Which idiotic chivalry was delaying her in her efforts to rescue Noir!

Thinking of Noir reminded her that he would want her to be kind to Florian, especially when Florian was puking out what few brains he had left in that blond head of his. She pushed back her black bangs and sighed...heavily.

"Are you feeling alright, Laila? That is the third time you've taken a breath like that? Are you short of breath, perhaps from all this walking around? I thought it might be too strenuous for you and indeed, that large meal you had at the questionable foodstall did not look quite sanitary, but you insisted..." Florian's pale face looked at her worriedly. Quite frankly, he was the one who looked ready to drop. They'd been checking hotels for hours, looking for any sign of the missing Solomon Sugar and Noir.

Laila bit back a sharp retort. Inspiration struck. She tried to look less than the pillar of strength and unladylike vigor that she was. "Actually, Florian, I could stand a nice cup of tea. Perhaps you could take a look inside that hotel over there and see if they saw any trace of Noir and Sugar and I'll wait for you over in that tearoom?"

"Are you sure you are feeling well enough to go there alone? I don't feel right leaving you on your own." Florian hesitated. Despite her independent ways, Laila was Ray's closest friend and he was not about to let anything happen to her in Ray's absence. He was too much a gentleman to complain, so he stayed by her side no matter what the cost, but he couldn't help wishing that the price were not _quite_ so hard on his constitution. Instead of meals at a decent restaurant as he suggested, she insisted on buying from street corner vendors, and wasn't pleased until he partook of the no doubt spoiled victuals along with her. He was delighted that she wanted tea from a genuine looking tea house, although he of course was sorry that she was feeling tired. One would never guess...she looked as hale and hearty as ever, he reflected enviously. Smiling encouragingly, he escorted her to the door of the tea room and then walked briskly back to make inquiries at the hotel she'd pointed out to him.

Florian was delighted to learn from the desk clerk that his "brother" Simon Sweet, which was the alias Solomon had told them he would use in case of emergency, was registered at the hotel, along with his cousin! Before heading up to greet them, he decided it would only be fair to get Laila, who was just as eager to see Ray. Well, almost as eager, he thought, smiling to himself, practically giddy with relief. He told the clerk he would be back in a minute, as he needed to get his...for a minute his mind went blank. Who should he say Laila was?

"My brother's wife," he concluded calmly, hoping to give an air of respectability to their little group, especially since he knew Laila would insist on going up to the room, gentlemen's room or not. "She's been so frantic since we lost the paper that had their hotel's name on it. We've been searching everywhere since arriving from France...you can imagine her fatigue."

"Of course. It must have been quite distressing. As I understand it, they had to move hotels anyway. There was trouble in their first one...burglars, if you can imagine! I am afraid Mrs. Sweet will be quite upset to see your brother. He was injured in an altercation with the ruffians. Nothing too serious, but quite a blow to the head. Thank goodness for your cousin. He was able to rout the ruffians with his cane!"

Florian smiled at the clerk, his charming smile quite flooring the man. This was good news. Not that Solomon had been hurt, of course, but that Ray had been able to help! He must be quite his old self! Making his excuses to the clerk and promising to return shortly, Florian headed back across the street.

Reaching the doorway of the tea room, Florian was just in time to see Laila being strong armed out the back of the room by two men. Frowning, he tried to think quickly of what would be the best thing to do. He wouldn't be able to overpower them. And if causing a disturbance would have worked, Laila would have done that. They must be holding some threat over her to keep her quiet.

Reaching a decision, Florian backed out of the tea shop and then moved as quickly and quietly as possible to the back of the building, just in time to see Laila being dragged out from a rear door of the tea shop. He crouched behind a handy barrel until he saw them head off down the alleyway behind the shops, and then took off after them, careful to follow at a safe distance. Hopefully he would be able to find out where these men were taking Laila. Then he had only to get back to Ray and Solomon and bring them back to her. After that, well, after that he hoped one of the other men would know what to do. Right now it was all he could do to keep the trio in his sight without him getting in their sight.

Noir made stealth seem much easier...and more enjoyable...than it really was, Florian decided. But, a gentleman must do what is required when a lady is in need of rescue. Even when the lady is as tough as Laila.

Especially when the lady is as tough as Laila, he told himself firmly, remembering her kindness to him over the past several days. His amethyst eyes narrowed with determination as he saw the larger of the two men jerk the small woman's arm roughly when she stumbled in her efforts to keep up with their fast pace.

That man would pay, Florian promised her. For Ray's sake. And for her own.

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

**Black Cat Missing – Chapter Six**

_Author's note: Gorgeous Carat is the creation of You Higuri; I am borrowing her characters out of deepest admiration; I make nothing from this endeavor and seek only to provide more enjoyment to the fans of Ms. Higuri's work; I dedicate this story to Astra Plain, with my deepest gratitude for her help, encouragement, and invaluable editing!_

_(Italics are used to distinguish when characters are speaking in French in scenes when both French and English are spoken_

Much to Solomon's surprise, it was the sound of knocking that woke him the next morning. He had been certain he wouldn't fall asleep for even a moment, yet he opened his eyes to find bright sunlight flooding the pleasant room. He reached over but the bed was empty and for a moment he panicked. Had Ray bolted in the night? Even as the thought flashed through his mind, he saw the slim figure crossing silently to the door, clad only in "borrowed" trousers from one of the rooms at their former lodging, and one of Solomon's sleeveless undershirts.

"_Don't just open it without_...," Solomon hadn't even gotten the warning out completely before he was being subjected to a withering look from those piercing green eyes.

"_I may think I'm young, Sol, but I am quite sure I was never stupid_," Noir hissed in a low voice as he looked through the peephole. Then, to Solomon's admiration, he pitched his voice lower than its normal range as he called through the closed door, in fairly clear English, "yes, what can we do for you? My cousin is still resting and he does not wish to be disturbed."

"I am quite sorry, Mr. Sweet, but I was wondering if your cousin's brother ever came back yesterday? I was quite surprised to see him run off down the street the way he did after..."

At a sign from Solomon, Noir opened the door to the desk clerk, an earnest looking young man who took one look at Noir's déshabillé and averted his gaze, red-faced. Of course, he wasn't any better off looking at Solomon, who had risen from the bed, clad only in his trousers, completely bare-chested. Rolling his eyes at the man's obvious inability to continue talking while faced with male flesh, Noir tossed Solomon a dressing gown and started buttoning on a shirt. As he belted the worn garment around his body, Sugar couldn't help noticing that Ray's old mannerisms, his air of competence and efficiency, were returning. Whatever had been done to him seemed to be wearing off under the influence of regular meals, a couple good nights' sleep and the company of someone familiar, he thought hopefully. Seeing Florian and Laila was sure to complete the cure. Which brought his wandering thoughts back to the comment made by the clerk.

"What do you mean about my brother? Was he here? A blond man? With," Solomon paused. He disliked revealing Florian's most distinguishing characteristic in case this was a trap. Better to have the clerk say it.

"Can you describe the man for me, please? Given our recent experience, I am cautious, you understand."

The clerk nodded. "So he seemed as well. But don't get me wrong, he was a very polite young

man, exceedingly so. Tall, just about the height of your cousin here, a little shorter, perhaps, with blond hair like yours, but much longer, past his shoulders even. We don't see that much around here any more, no offense. French like yourselves. But I would say the most distinctive thing about him were his eyes. Never saw anyone, man or woman, with eyes that color. Purple, well, not purple, really, more like that gemstone. What is it called?" The clerk looked at them.

"Amethysts," Noir answered quietly. Solomon looked at him, in hopeful surprise. "The purple gems are called amethysts. That is probably what you mean. You're right. Eyes that color are unusual." He looked thoughtful. Solomon was disappointed that Ray didn't seem to be having any type of epiphany over the mention of a man with amethyst eyes. He returned his attention to the clerk.

"Yes, that is my brother. Please, tell me, what happened to him. He did not come up to our room. Yet you say he was here and you told him of our room number?"

"Yes, I did. He was quite excited. He was concerned to learn of your injury, of course, but was very pleased that your cousin here had helped you in fighting the men who attacked you. We discussed that briefly. It seems he and your wife," he paused while Noir made a strangled noise at that comment. As the clerk looked over at him, Solomon shook his head behind the man's back and signaled for the younger man to be quiet. Obviously Florian had felt the need to explain Laila, but where was she while he was doing that? He coughed to regain the man's attention from the perturbed looking Noir,

"Please, go on. My young cousin is no doubt anticipating the fuss my 'wife' will make over my injuries. She tends to become quite distraught whenever I am hurt. But, you were saying?" Solomon motioned for the nervous man to have a seat opposite him at the small table near the window.

"Well, as I was saying, your brother said your wife had lost the paper you gave her that had the name of your hotel on it. As it turns out, they didn't even go to your prior hotel, so they didn't find out that you had been hurt as you were so worried about happening. They'd been wandering around trying to find the two of you all day yesterday, checking all the hotels that she thought sounded like the one she remembered being on the piece of paper she lost. Can you imagine? Poor thing was totally worn out and was waiting for him in the tea room across the street. So, of course he was thrilled to learn you were here and went to get her before going up to see you. But that's when the strangest thing happened. He went over to the tea room, you see, and he stood there in the doorway for a second, then he just up and took off around the building like a jackrabbit!"

The man finished his story and waited expectantly for their reactions. He wasn't disappointed.

At least, he wouldn't have been if he had ever learned French. As it was, he could tell his tale had quite an effect on his listeners, and he would have been completely happy with the results if only he could have understood a word of it!

"_What is it, then, Solomon? Are these the friends you mentioned? You didn't tell me you were married! Your wife is here? Why would the man run off like that without bringing your wife here?" _Noir looked at Solomon with narrowed eyes, his hands on his hips. Solomon almost thought he saw hurt in those green depths except that didn't make sense. Why would Ray, well, Noir, be hurt at the idea of him being married? His kiss last night had only been given out of a sense of...what? Gratitude? Curiosity?

He forced himself to focus on what was most important at the moment–Florian and Laila's whereabouts. A quick glance at the clerk reassured him that it was safe to continue to speak in their native tongue. Rude perhaps, but safe.

"_The man is not really my brother, that was a subterfuge on his part, to explain why he was looking for me, and I can only guess he said Laila, who actually is your long time friend and trusted aide de camp, was my wife so that he could in all propriety escort her to our room without causing comment. Florian tends to be concerned with things like that. As to why he ran away, I imagine he took off down the street for much the same type of reason we left our prior lodging by way of the window– trouble found them. Or rather, found Laila as she waited alone for him in the tea room. He must have had no time to come back for us. This is worrisome, Noir, Florian is not..."_

"_Not what? He has gone to rescue the woman, to save my friend, you say, this Laila...that is a good thing, yes?" _Noir's brow was creased with the effort of following Solomon's explanation. The man with the gem like eyes, who was not Solomon's brother, but was instead a friend of his, had been happy to find them. That man had gone to get another friend of his, the woman who was not Solomon's wife, a fact which relieved Noir somehow, he wasn't sure why, and despite his reported happiness did not return, due, Solomon tells him, to the interference of those men who were hunting them. Maybe it wasn't that, and instead they had simply decided they didn't need to find Noir so much after all? The crease in Noir's forehead deepened, and his mouth frowned.

The clerk's eyes were glazed over by the affect of trying to decipher any meaning out of the rapid words. French! Why couldn't they speak a normal language that sounded like something decent people would speak...like English! At least these two fellows had covered themselves up.

"_Ray...my black cat...what has you troubled? We will find Florian and Laila,"_ Solomon stood and walked over to where Noir stood at the window, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Noir turned away from the taller man, unable to answer as to why he was feeling so upset. It wasn't like he could remember the people Solomon spoke of– could he? Just then, as Noir looked aimlessly out the window, his gaze fell upon a tall, spare man in glasses who was standing outside the tea room, looking across at the hotel. He felt a chill go through him.

"_The doctor," _he whispered in a low voice, so quietly that Solomon could barely hear him. _"Non!"_ He backed away from the window quickly, stumbling against Solomon, who caught him, grasping his arms so that he wouldn't fall.

_Ray, what is it?_ _Who is it_?" Solomon found himself clasping a shaking Noir to his chest.

Gleaning that the younger man had seen something outside the window, the curious clerk stood up and peered over Solomon's shoulder to look.

"Why that is Dr.Schlechtkoft, the famous German hypnotist. He's been in London for the past several weeks, delivering a series of lectures at one of the Academies, you know, where all the black robes meet to listen to dry lectures. Not that his talks are dry. The papers are all full of his stuff. Like a magician he is, they say. Can make a body do anything. A lady was cured of being blind...and another man was made to think he _was_ blind! Stumbled all around the stage, he did."

Solomon felt as though a lightbulb went on. He'd read papers on hypnotism and the work of the French psychotherapists, of course, who were always looking to see how to use the old field of study in new ways to treat the previously untreatable. But in his profession, it was the charlatans who were their biggest concern, as well as the men who used the tools of hypnotism and psychology to prey upon others. As he felt the proud Noir struggling to regain his composure, he wondered, "just what did that bastard do to you, my black cat?"

But at least now he felt he had a clue as to_ how_ they did it. He stared out the window at the tall, thin man with his wire rim glasses and thinning brown hair, and thought to himself, "you will pay, my good doctor, you will pay."

As the man headed across the street to the hotel, Solomon turned to the clerk.

"Dear sir, we must beg your assistance. Would you please, if the good doctor should make inquiries about us, especially about my cousin, or someone of my cousin's description, say that we have not been here? We cannot explain all right now, but I assure you that it is most important that we not be located right now. My brother is attempting to rescue my...my wife and we must go to his aid. I believe the doctor is our best hope of locating him...and her...quickly. But we must follow him without him knowing. To do that, we will need you to send him off while we slip out the back...will you do that?"

Solomon looked at him earnestly. His simple appeal to the meek little clerk was worth something. So was the look in Ray's green eyes as he stepped back from Solomon's comforting arms and squared his shoulders.

"Please...help us," The handsome face with its cleft chin and high cheekbones, set off by those striking green eyes that looked right into a man's soul, made the little clerk straighten up and try to stand taller himself.

"Well, I didn't think it was all that right for that doctor fellow to send the bloke walking right off the stage once he got him to thinking he was blind, just to prove to the audience that he really did think he was blind. The bloke hurt himself all right...broke his leg! I'll help you. Your brother was a decent man, spoke quite politely and I can tell you're worried about him and the lady. Famous or not, he can't be a _good_ man when he gets a brave man like your cousin so upset to see him. After all, you told me how your cousin was able to save you from those men who attacked you! You two finish getting ready and go out the back way. Stop in the kitchen and grab a few rolls for your breakfast. I'll stall him at the front desk. Go on now."

After quickly shaking hands with both of them, and refusing to take the money Solomon tried to press upon him, their room having already been paid for in advance, they bid their new ally farewell. Soon enough, they were tailing the annoyed hypnotist down the street, hoping he would lead them to Florian and Laila.

Florian watched as the two men dragged a visibly exhausted Laila into a warehouse type building, not far from the section of town where several factories were located. It had been a much longer walk than he had been expecting and he could only imagine how tired Laila must be. He was more used to physical exercise than she was, for all that she was very strong for a woman. Even so, he was feeling the strain of the past couple of days. He knew she considered him a very weak man, and compared to Ray, in many ways, he was. But Florian also knew he was strong in ways Laila couldn't understand. Ray understood, and Florian knew that Ray had come to respect him. His face was set with grim determination now as he weighed his options. His own safety did not even go into the balance; all that mattered to him was getting Laila and Ray safely home to France.

One of Florian's greatest strengths was in going on when he was exhausted, terrified, and not only completely out of his depth, and fully aware of that fact, yet also aware that he was the only one at hand for the job. It was what made him throw himself after Ray and Azura even if all he could do was die by Ray's side when Azura was after the Holy Grail. It was what made him fight to save young Noel when the boy was captured by the Black Hand. And it was what made him decide that he couldn't leave for help from Ray and Sugar. He had to be sure that Laila was going to be safe until he could return with reinforcements, well, relatively safe, he amended mentally, looking around at the shady looking neighborhood. Thankfully, it was deserted at the moment.

Florian wished he had a cloak with a hood, or something to cover his bright colored hair as he moved into the shadows by the side of the warehouse and looked up at the windows that lined the wall about ten feet from the ground. No doubt Noir could easily find a way in through those, he thought ruefully, but he didn't happen to have the climbing skills of the average street cat. Almost as though conjured by the thought, a black tom came running down the alley that ran perpendicular to the warehouse. It was chased by a nasty brute of a dog, which wasn't all that big but had an unpleasant look to its face, Florian noted, picking up a handy stick as a precaution. The spry tom leaped along a series of trash bins of increasing size and then pressed a spot on what appeared to be a blank door that must have been a secret latch of some sort as it caused a crack to appear! The cat pushed in and the door slammed shut after it, directly in the aggravated dog's face.

"A cat door?" Florian thought wonderingly. What kind of secret bad guy hide-out has a pet door like that one? Standing still until the hapless dog wandered off to look for new prey, and counting himself fortunate that he stood downwind of the trash bins, Florian moved closer for a better look at the black cat's means of entrance into the building. He realized that it wasn't really a pet door, but a trash chute of some sort. The clever cat had discovered a way to work the mechanism that controlled the hinge from the outside. Steeling his senses against the unpleasant odor of the trash bins, he hoisted himself onto edge of the tallest one and lightly hit the same spot the cat had, causing the small door to swing open. Holding his breath, he climbed into the chute, and began a slow crawl up the dark tunnel.

"_I really hope my friend sir cat knows the schedule of this place, and I can trust that no trash will be deposited on my head while I am making my way through this chute_," he thought as he inched his way along the narrow space. It was just big enough for his slender frame. He also hoped that there was an opening at the other end, now that he had time to think that far ahead.

Luck was with him. The chute ended at a kitchen of sorts. It was not in use, fortunately, and Florian quickly scrambled out of the small space and into the empty room. Remembering Noir's on-going tutelage since he'd joined his household, Florian looked around the room as quickly and quietly as possible for something to use as a weapon. He selected a couple of long knives that he could secret in his coat, and one smaller one that could be hidden in his boot. Hearing someone's voice, he hid.

"That wench won't be so smart mouthed as soon as Azura gets here," One of the men who had taken Laila came banging into the room, the door crashing against the wall with a thud. A different man accompanied him. Florian was glad he hadn't chosen to hide behind it, but had decided to crouch behind a large prep table filled with pots and pans instead. From between two large stock pots, a pair of green eyes stared up at him. Florian put his finger to his lips, hoping his small friend would not give him away.

"You were a bit rough with her," the second man said. He didn't sound especially regretful, he was just noting a fact. There was the sound of cabinets opening and someone rummaging.

"Never anything decent to eat in this kitchen. Just all that strange Moroccan food. Wish we could have some decent English meat and potatoes. All that time in America, you'd think Azura would've learned to like beef."

"Don't let him hear you complaining," the second man warned. "It'll be the last thing you do."

"Nah, he'll be happy with me. I fixed Nick's mistake. Can you imagine him confusing amethyst with green? Brought back the wrong guy? But I have the right female, and the doctor himself is out looking for that Noir now. The doctor said to..."

Florian had sneezed. He had tried not to, he really did, but the proximity of his feline friend had proved a bit much for his allergies. He looked at the cat, wide-eyed in horror as complete silence followed the muffled sound.

"What was that?" The second man's voice gruffly asked.

"I don't know, mice?" The first man didn't seem as concerned.

Picking up his furry black head, the tom cat gave Florian a look that seemed to say, "leave this to me." Florian could swear the impish thing even winked at him! Tail swishing, the cat leapt dextrously out from among the pots, around the table and dashed across the room as though in fast pursuit. Of _something_.

"Just that damn cat," the first man laughed. He must have gotten in through the trash shoot again. I wish Azura would get rid of the damn thing. But he likes it! Go figure. Says it reminds him of someone he used to know. I heard him taunting that Noir guy with it when he was first brought in. Said the cat was freer than he was." The man's coarse laugh sounded again.

"I remember." The second voice answered. "Are you done getting your food? We'd better get back to the girl. She might wake up."

"She ain't waking up too soon. I put her out for the count."

Florian tightened his lips.

"Well, I'm going back. You catch up when you're done."

"Sure, sure. Be right there. I'm going to close off that chute for the night. Don't want all the neighborhood cats getting in, do we?"

Florian heard the sound of the kitchen door closing on the second man leaving. He waited patiently for the first man to finish eating his fill. Then, he watched the shadow of the big man as he walked past to the trash chute. As the man stood staring at it, trying to figure out a way to lock it from the inside, Florian crept up behind him with a large iron flying pan and sent it crashing down on his thick skull.

The man went down...heavily.

"I think that puts you down for the count," Florian reflected, looking down at the large thug as he lay sprawled on the floor. He would have liked to exact more revenge on the man for what he bragged about doing to Laila, but did not want to waste any more time getting to her. Finding some sturdy wire in one of the kitchen drawers, he trussed the man up, gagged and blindfolded him with some kitchen towels, and dragged him into a pantry. That last step took some time as he was quite a heavy man.

Florian considered his handiwork before closing the pantry door on the man, and as a last measure, decided to remove his shoes and trousers and spread broken glass over the pantry floor.

"There," he thought. "That should take him out of commission for a bit. Now, on to rescue Laila. I wish there were some way to get word to Noir and Sugar."

tbc...


	7. Chapter 7

**Black Cat Missing – Chapter Seven**

_Author's note: Gorgeous Carat is the creation of You Higuri; I am borrowing her characters out of deepest admiration; I make nothing from this endeavor and seek only to provide more enjoyment to the fans of Ms. Higuri's work; I dedicate this story to Astra Plain, with my deepest gratitude for her help, encouragement, and invaluable editing!_

_(Italics are used to distinguish when characters are speaking in French in scenes when both French and English are spoken_

Solomon and Noir crouched together behind some trash bins and waited for the hypnotist to exit the hotel. Solomon would have liked to have listened in as the man questioned the clerk but that would have left the two of them too confined. Instead, he opted for the relative freedom of the street. He didn't think the clerk would betray their location, but if he did, they were better off outside than in the hotel. He gripped the revolver in his coat pocket firmly, resolved to defend Ray with his life if it came to that.

They'd quickly come up with a story for the clerk to tell Schlechtkoft that they'd hoped would cause him to go directly back to Azura's hideout. He was to say that two men matching their descriptions had been visited by a man who looked like Florian, and that the three of them had spoken of heading to the dock to book passage. Presumably that would be a message that the man would need to report to Azura at once, and not one that he would act on alone. Solomon and Noir were counting on that, and betting Laila's safety on the outcome. They were also counting on their hope that Florian had not managed to get himself caught. The fact that Schlechtkoft was here making inquiries could mean either that they had gotten information from Laila or that Florian had been seen going into the hotel...or worse, that they had already gotten information from both of their friends by means of torture. The clerk was to change the story to say that only Noir and Solomon had left if the man asked only after the two of them or seemed to know where Florian was. They were counting on him to be able to judge whether or not the villains had succeeded in capturing Florian also. They were also trusting him not to give in to whatever temptations were offered him to cooperate.

"_Do you think we can trust the clerk?"_ Noir's question was the merest whisper, a breath on the wind. Solomon didn't take his eyes off the door of the hotel to answer. He merely shrugged and spoke his own low-voiced response to the space in front of him.

"_We have no choice but to trust him...so we trust him hoping he is worthy of our trust, all the while making plans for the worst...that is what you always do, Noir." _

Solomon felt rather than saw the nod. "_That feels like something I would do...blind trust does not,"_ Noir said.

Just then the tall spare form of the hypnotist could be seen standing in the doorway of the hotel, speaking to someone inside. Schlechtkoft stood in the open doorway for a moment after he finished speaking, as though he were gathering his thoughts. He looked up and down the street searchingly, and then took off briskly, walking next to the bins behind which Solomon and Noir were hiding. He never once looked in their direction.

Noir felt as though he'd been holding his breath for hours. He exhaled with a gasp when the doctor turned the corner and passed from their sight.

"_Come on_," he pulled on Solomon's coatsleeve, "_let's go!" _

Solomon let Noir take the lead in trailing Schlechtkoft. It was soon clear that Noir had lost none of his old skill at moving quickly, silently, and essentially invisibly. They followed the man for blocks before he finally came up to what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. They remained hidden in a nearby alley and watched the tall figure look both ways before he rapped upon the door in a staccato pattern. After a brief pause, the door opened and he slipped inside.

"_We must get inside_," Solomon whispered urgently. He was ready to move forward and search for another way into the building.

"_No_."

Solomon turned back, startled.

"_What do you mean, no? Our friends are inside, we must go to their aid!" _

The green eyes looked at him coldly. _"Perhaps your friends are inside but I have no friends. I remember this place and what I remember is all bad. I escaped from here and I have no desire to go back inside. It...it..."_

"_Frightens you?" _Solomon raised an eyebrow. The Ray Balzac Courland he knew did not admit to any fear. This black cat also hissed at the suggestion that he could be afraid of anything. But then, to Solomon's surprise, Ray clutched at him in a fierce hug as he spoke; his breath was hot against his neck, one arm warm around his side and back as the other hand rubbed his muscles caressingly, distractingly.

"_No! It is not fear but common sense! A man doesn't go walking blindly into a trap! Into a cage! That is what awaits me in that building. A cage. I escaped it once, I have no desire to go back. Not for you, not for your friends...not for any..."_

"_Not for your Amethyst?" _

Noir recoiled as though he'd been slapped. He shook his head forcefully as he slipped away, back into the shadows of the alley. The afternoon sky was dark with clouds and the sun was long gone despite the early hour, deepening the alley's normal shade.

Solomon shook his head also. He didn't have time for this. The longer Schlechtkoft was in there, the more danger Laila was in. And where in the world had Florian disappeared to? He hoped he was safe somewhere. There was no hope for it. He would have to reveal himself, he decided, and hope that it would flush Florian out from whatever corner he'd hidden himself. Maybe if Florian came forward, Noir would come back also, Solomon thought optimistically.

And maybe pigs would start flying too, he added, his more natural pessimism breaking through as he reached the door that Schlechtkoft had passed through so easily. The detective tapped his foot impatiently as he considered the all too solid door.

"Why, Mr. Sugar, let me be of assistance," a smooth voice spoke from directly behind him as a tall shadow fell across Solomon's path. Recognizing that voice, Solomon felt his heart sink even as he wondered how he'd failed to hear the approach of the man he'd learned to hate more than any other.

Azura. Romwell Junior. Trouble.

At least Solomon now had reason to be glad Ray had run out on him; thank God the younger man had shown better sense than to walk straight into danger. Where was Solomon's own sense of judgment on this adventure? He'd been making one mistake after another, he told himself in disgust as he turned around slowly. Why had he assumed that there would be no one who would recognize him, especially since he'd already come under attack once? All he could do was blame the blow on his head for making him careless. The thought provided scant comfort as he turned and found himself looking into the cold azure eye of his nemesis.

"Romwell, Junior."

"Detective Solomon Sugar, always so amusing to see you." The long, almost white hair, was whipped around Azura's face by the wind that had kicked up in the last hour. A storm was coming, Solomon thought irrelevantly, as he stared defiantly at the other man's mocking expression.

"I can't say the same is true about seeing you, Romwell, Junior. Up to your old tricks, are you? Kidnapping? Torture?"

Azura gave a small half smile and shook his head slightly. "Now, Detective, this is not the type of conversation to have on the street, is it? Come, let me welcome you into my...what do they call the villain's abode in the penny dreadfuls? My hideaway? My lair?"

"I believe the phrase you're searching for is 'step into my web said the spider to the fly,'" Solomon told him dryly as he felt the prod of Azura's whip handle in his side. The cocky crime lord had not thought to search him for a weapon and he was careful to keep the gleam out of his eye, maintaining a defeated posture. All he needed was the chance to get inside and then turn the tables on Azura!

As he walked ahead of his captor, arms in the air, Solomon concentrated on the feel of his holster against his side, under his arm. He frowned faintly. Now that he thought about it, it was feeling suspiciously light... He thought back to when Ray had clutched him in that fierce hug before leaving him.

Noir! Damn that Black Cat and his talent as a pickpocket! He stole his gun!

Resigned, Solomon let the prodding whip handle guide him into a large room where, with a cut off cry of outrage, he rushed forward to kneel on the floor by the side of an unconscious Laila. Gently, he examined her bruised and bloodied form. He determined that while she appeared to have been beaten rather severely, there were no broken bones. From the undisturbed look of her clothes, he hoped that nothing more horrific had been done to the brave woman than the physical battering.

Solomon turned and glared at Azura, who had seated himself on a rather ornate chair placed on a raised platform. He was busy listening to the hypnotist, who was accompanied by one of Azura's thugs. Solomon called over to get the white haired man's attention.

"You must be so proud of yourself, giving orders for the beating of women now, Azura?"

"It isn't anything new for me, you must know that better than most, Detective. Why should women be sacrosanct in a world where children are fair game for barter?"

The lovely azure eye held no pity. Solomon berated himself for thinking to find any there. This was a man who'd had all mercy burned out of him a long time ago, under the hot Moroccan sun. Only Noir had the ability to win any trace of humanity from him–but it was Noir who stood the most to lose from him as well. Azura could only take life from the rest of them. From Ray, he wanted to strip the very soul the man had managed to salvage-- and Florian had nourished– in the years away from Morocco...and Azura.

Solomon stopped wishing that Noir would come back with his gun and rescue them. Instead, he hoped his black cat ran far, far away from this place.

"I'm sorry," he apologized quietly to Laila as he pulled her into his arms and tried to make her comfortable. He was sorry for failing her and Ray, for all the mistakes he'd made in this mission, and most of all, for allowing Azura to win. He forgot all about Florian as he waited for Azura to tell them how he was going to kill them.

After slipping out of the kitchen, Florian followed the black tom cat down a hallway, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. His heart was beating rapidly. He held ready the small pistol he'd lifted from man he'd knocked unconscious, grateful for the shooting lessons Ray had forced upon him. Shooting at a target that was shaped like a man was very different than skeet shooting or fox hunting, he'd discovered. But, he'd learned. Now, the weight of the pistol in his hand was a familiar, comforting feeling, and he was confident in his ability to use a gun–far different than the Florian of old.

But oh, he'd much rather have Noir here to tell him what to do, he thought. Or better yet, to tell him to be quiet and let him do it as would be far more likely. Ray, where were you?

No sooner had the words formed in his mind than Florian heard a sound coming from the hallway up ahead. Looking at his friend the cat for a suggestion, he saw his small guide scratch at a door on the other side of the hallway. Moving quickly, Florian didn't even consider questioning the feline, he turned the doorknob and ducked inside the dimly lit room.

He backed right into a warm body. Which was holding a gun.

Before Florian could make a sound, a hand came over his mouth, holding it firmly.

Warm breath tickled his ear as he stood perfectly still, recognizing the feel of a pistol in his ribcage by this point in his adventurous life without needing to look down and see it.

"Don't make a sound," the voice hissed in accented English. The voice was familiar despite the accent, which was not, and Florian knew the arms that held him despite their unusual thinness. Tears stung his eyes and he swallowed hard.

As the dampness from the overflowing tears reached Noir's hand, and he realized both that the man he held was not trying in any way to get away from him and that his captive was silently crying, Noir moved his hand away from Florian's mouth. He turned him around so that he could look into his face. The room was somewhat dark, with the only light coming from the window Noir had broken to gain entry. The threatening storm had finally broken, but even with the dark clouds outside giving very little light to the room, the amethyst color of those startling eyes could be seen through the tears.

"_You...you are...the man Solomon told me about...my friend_?" His words were somewhere between a question and a statement. All Florian could do at first was nod. But the look of lost confusion in Ray's eyes as he stared at him and tried so hard to put the pieces together was too much for him to bear without helping.

"_Ah, Ray, I am your friend and more, I am yours, completely, body and soul_, _forever,_" he whispered as he lifted his face and kissed Noir.

Their bodies molded together, thighs to thighs, chest to chest, the hand with the gun wrapped around Florian's neck, forgotten in the heat of the moment. This felt like coming home, Noir realized dazedly, as his body recognized the other man even if his mind was slower to fill in the gaps. The fog was clearing, though. As they kissed, and his body woke to familiar sensations, he started to return to himself. He broke the kiss with a gasp.

"Sugar!"

Florian looked at him confused.

Ray hugged him close. "_I left him outside. I'd pick-pocketed his gun. He was captured by Azura as he approached this building. I made a more surreptitious entry. Not that Sugar could have gotten in the way I did. You practically needed the spine of a cat to do it. He's a little too substantial to have made it. But, how did you get in? Never mind...no time now. We need to find Laila and Sugar and then get out. Do you have any idea where they're being held?"_

"_I heard some men talking. Laila is being held in some larger meeting room. She's been beaten I'm afraid,"_ Florian told him. His hands were roving over Ray, checking him for signs of injury, frowning over his thinness and the small injuries left by his weeks on the streets. Ray grabbed his hands to still them although he gave the blond an understanding smile even as his eyes narrowed over news of Laila's treatment.

"_I will deal with Azura. I can remember now what happened. It must have been his men who caught me after I'd finished my business here in the city. I was brought to this warehouse and greeted by a 'doctor' by the name of Schlechkoft. Some quack hypnotist. They kept me in a cage... literally a cage, Florian. Almost starved. It aided in the good doctor's work of breaking my resistance. But I got out. Followed a cat out. I'm not sure why I couldn't remember you and Laila, but for some reason I thought I was fourteen again. Stupid prank on Azura's part."_

Florian frowned. _"There must be more to it than that. Didn't he tell you?_"

Ray shook his head. _"That's the thing. Azura wasn't here. I heard them say he was coming but I never saw him. I got away before he arrived. Not that I was escaping from him, mind you. The way my mind was going, I had this crazy idea to go looking for him. I thought I was saving him from being caught in a cage too. Stupid, huh?"_

He looked at Florian, at a loss to explain his actions and his continued stubborn affection for a man who'd tried to end both their lives time after time, but there was no need. Florian merely pulled him close again, wrapping his arms around him comfortingly. He could only imagine how terrifying it must have been, to be in the clutches of such men and to have someone like that hypnotist messing around with his mind. While Azura would always terrify him and had no redeeming value as a human being to his way of thinking, he knew that to Ray, Azura would always be both brother and enemy. The pain to Ray was in the fact that it was the brother whom Ray would always see first in the man; Ray would always miss the brother who sacrificed an eye to save his life even as he fought the enemy who hunted them down. 

"_We can discuss it more later,"_ Ray said decisively. _"Right now, we must rescue Laila and Sugar."_

"_I have a gun also,"_ Florian told him. _"It's in my pocket." _

Ray raised an eyebrow and smirked. "_And here I thought you were glad to see me." _

Florian rolled his eyes.

Cautiously, Ray opened the door to the room. Looking both ways, he started to slip out. He was startled by the black cat that passed through his legs on its way to the hall.

"_Ah, my friend cat, still here?"_

"_He's been helping me,"_ Florian explained sheepishly.

Ray's singularly sweet smile appeared. "I'm glad. But you've done pretty well so far. When there's time, you'll have to tell me how a cat helped you get that gun."

Florian grinned.

The two of them crept down the hallway, following their small guide. Soon enough, they came to a large room. Voices could be heard from inside. The crack of a whip and a cry of pain made Ray stop short and put his hand out to stop Florian.

"_Well, we've found the right place,"_ he said grimly.

_Finale in Chapter Eight of Black Cat Missing_


	8. Chapter 8

**Black Cat Missing – Chapter Eight–Finale**

_Author's note: Gorgeous Carat is the creation of You Higuri; I am borrowing her characters out of deepest admiration; I make nothing from this endeavor and seek only to provide more enjoyment to the fans of Ms. Higuri's work; I dedicate this story to Astra Plain, with my deepest gratitude for her help, encouragement, and invaluable editing!_

_(Italics are used to distinguish when characters are speaking in French in scenes when both French and English are spoken; Bold is used to denote the Berber language._

"_Well, we've found the right place,"_ Noir said grimly. His voice was pitched low but Florian heard him. They exchanged troubled looks. How were they going to get into the room without losing any advantage of surprise? They needed a way to sneak up on Azura. Feeling slightly foolish, Florian looked to his ally, the small black cat.

"_One more favor, friend cat, would be much appreciated_," he told it. Noir looked at him, raising a skeptical eyebrow. The black tom took off down the hall and pawed lightly at a grate located at the end of the corridor. Neither of them had noticed it before. The two men looked at each other for just a moment in surprise, but another cry of pain from the room sent them running lightly down the hallway. There was no time to waste in questioning how the cat knew to help them–they just knew that it did.

They kneeled; Ray examined the grate while Florian kept watch, his gun out, to make sure no one was coming.

"_I think this is one of the heating vents and it leads to similar vents in each of the rooms. It's small but I should be able to get inside. If it runs above the room where they are holding Solomon, I can shoot while still hidden within the air vent..." _

"_We __can shoot from there_." Florian looked at him, determined. Noir looked amused.

"_I appreciate the sentiment but how do you propose we both fit inside such a small passageway?" _

Florian's dismayed expression was so comical that despite the seriousness of the situation, Noir couldn't resist reaching up to kiss him again.

"_I think I must be quite taken with you in my normal life_," he mused, a faint smile touching his face before he was all business again. "_Wait outside that door. Once you hear my shot taking out the person who is harming Solomon, trust that I'll manage to have Azura covered, one way or another. That will be your time to burst in. Hopefully your entry will be enough to let us take full control of the room. I don't think he has many men in there with him._."

"_He doesn't. From what they were saying earlier, there should only be the doctor and two others_ _in there with Azura. If you take care of the one harming Solomon, and from the sounds, it seems to be just the one, and then turn your attention to Azura, I can direct my attention to the other guard as soon as I enter the room and attempt to free Laila. If I am able to take him out, that leaves only the doctor to concern us, and I should be able to handle him while you concentrate on Azura._"

"_Good. I may even be able to take out that bastard doctor before turning my attention to Azura if there's time_," Noir said grimly. By then, he had the grate removed and was ready to crawl into the narrow air duct. He looked back at Florian's anxious face. "_It's a good thing I lost so much weight, after all_," he quipped, trying to lighten the mood. He then disappeared from view, leaving Florian to close the grate behind him.

Florian didn't like this plan but had nothing better to offer. The sounds of Solomon's torture continued in the room down the hall so there was no time for the rescue to be delayed while they came up with another plan. He returned to his post outside the door and waited anxiously for the sound that would signal Ray's arrival. He kept his own pilfered revolver out and poised, ready to fire. He tried the door cautiously to determine if he would have to shoot the lock before entering when the time came for him to do so, but the doorknob turned freely. Once he discovered this, he kept the knob twisted so he could push the door open as soon as he heard a shot fired. He tried not to focus too much on the stifled cries from his friend Solomon as the torture continued but it was impossible to ignore what was going on and yet remain alert for Noir's entrance.

Azura's voice had lost its amused tone.

"I will give you one more chance, Sugar, and then your stubbornness will make me direct my man to return his attentions to the girl. Where is Noir?"

"Oh, come... now...your man isn't... anywhere... near... done... with me," Solomon gasped his defiance. Florian couldn't help admiring the detective's courage even as he wished Sugar didn't feel the need to taunt Azura into even greater cruelties. The man was vicious enough. Although, Florian appreciated the chivalrous instinct that demanded that Solomon protect Laila, there were times when discretion was the better part of valour. Besides, he privately suspected Laila was tougher than all of them. The next sound he heard through the door confirmed his suspicions.

"Let him go, Azura! He doesn't know where Noir is! Florian and I hired him to find Noir, but it was a foolish hope. When Noir doesn't want to be found, we should have known it would be beyond Solomon Sugar, a failed Paris detective, to find him."

Laila's voice was rough, scornful. Florian was shocked at her attitude. He knew she could be harsh, but the poor man _had _been trying to protect her from the villains, one would think she'd have sounded a_ little_ appreciative!

In fact, Laila was most appreciative of Solomon Sugar's courageous efforts. She was very afraid they might well be the death of him. She'd regained consciousness shortly after he'd joined her and they'd briefly caught each other up on the other's activities since they'd last seen each other. Laila refused to believe that Noir had just abandoned them to their fate, despite what Sugar had told her of her boss disappearing with his gun. Similarly, the detective suspected that Florian had not been quite as useless as Laila claimed. Being a gentleman, he'd politely refrained from pointing out that it was Laila who'd been captured and not Florian.

Azura had separated them all too soon. He'd ordered Solomon stripped to the waist and chained by his arms to two poles in the center of the room. Solomon didn't go easily, and his struggles, while taking a toll on the guards since he was a good fighter, cost him also, leaving him battered and bruised. One large, beefy guard stood behind him and applied a whip with zeal while Azura watched from his throne-like chair, Dr. Schlechtkopf standing at his right. The other guard watched from Laila's side.

Finally, it came...the shot. The whip-wielding guard went down heavily. Before the second guard could react, he too took a bullet, this one from Florian who burst into the room as Noir flew out from the vent gracefully, and agilely made for Azura's side as his former brother in arms stood up and ordered his remaining aide, the doctor, to secure his prisoners.

"I think not, Herr Doktor. Stand still or I shall put a bullet through my friend Azura," Noir said quietly, speaking English as he was not sure which language to use to the man. He'd noticed while he viewed the scene from the vent that Azura had been speaking to Solomon in English rather than French.

"My dear Noir, how charming that you saved me the trouble of going to find you!" Azura practically purred his pleasure, putting Noir off-guard. There was no sign of displeasure on his face at the injury and probable deaths of his two henchmen. Azura looked and sounded positively gleeful, Laila noticed, sharing a concerned look with Solomon. Florian looked at Azura from where he was searching the body one of the shot henchman for the keys to Solomon's chains, and frowned. Something was not right.

"Hurry!" Solomon urged Florian and he returned to his task, keeping one eye on what he was doing and the other on Ray.

"Doctor? I believe you need to give my black cat a refresher." Azura said lightly, just as Florian found the keys and turned to release Solomon. The German hypnotist twisted his thin lips into a travesty of a smile and nodded, but waited until he saw that Florian's arms were fully engaged in holding Solomon up, his gun tucked into his waistband. It was then that Schlechtkopf sharply said to Ray, in English, "Azura is your blood brother, Noir. Your enemy is the man with the amethyst eyes. Look for the man who has amethyst eyes."

Noir lowered his gun, and stared at Azura. He tilted his head questioningly.

"Azura?"

Azura's blue eye was shadowed and he lowered his head for a moment so that his hair covered it from the view of the others in the room, three of whom were looking over in horror.

"No," Laila whispered.

"_Non_," Florian shook his head unbelievingly. He shifted Solomon so that he could try to grab his gun again but Noir whipped around quickly.

"No...toss that gun over, onto the floor," Noir ordered. "Place that man with...place him carefully on the floor by the woman. She can tend to him. You, Herr Doktor, get them both some water and unchain the woman. Get the key from the woman. Then you, man with amethyst eyes, move away, get near the pillars."

Azura frowned and looked at the doctor warningly.

"Do as he says, Herr Doktor. But Noir...why do you bother with those two? They are not important to us. We can leave them here. As soon as you finish with your enemy. End it now and we can go. Shoot the enemy, Noir. Do it now before they trick you somehow. Kill the enemy."

Noir stared at the fair haired man with the odd coloured eyes. His mind screamed at him that something was wrong, that the man was not his enemy...yet, he also believed that he was. It was so confusing, He felt the sweat pouring down his back and the gun felt slippery in his hand. Azura moved towards him and he whipped back to face him.

"No!" He ordered. "I need to think! Don't rush me."

Noir stood with his back to the wall. Azura and the skinny doctor were on one side, the injured man whom Noir remembered had helped him when he was hurt and hungry, and the strange girl were on the floor on the other side. And opposite him, in the center, looking calm but pale, was the beautiful man with the amethyst eyes, the man whom part of his mind labeled an enemy, and whom another part of his mind screamed... no! Not an enemy... His head hurt so badly as it tried to figure out the answer.

Solomon forced himself to remain conscious, swallowing the water that Laila held to his lips. He stared at the stand-off before him and tried to think of a way out of this trap that Azura had set for his black cat. There had to be a key to the puzzle. Noir was exhausted from fighting the post-hypnotic suggestion and Azura was ready to jump him and overpower him the second Noir's attention wavered.

"_Laila, what set this off, what did they say... and who said it?" _Solomonwhispered.

"_It was the creepy doctor... he told Noir that Azura was good and Florian was bad,"_ she related, thinking it was no wonder Sugar missed it, considering his condition at the time. She watched the men in front of her as avidly as he did, even as her mind worked as furiously to solve this puzzle as it ever did on one of Noir's research projects. "_No, wait...he said it in English!"_

"_You think that was significant?"_

"_I think it has to be, Azura rarely speaks English to Noir and that doctor had been using either German or French. So, it means something I think. We have to assume that the trigger phrase for the post hypnotic suggestion was in English, which we wouldn't be likely to use, but which the henchmen would and they all would. We heard it, it was very deliberate and not something we'd likely say. What do you want to bet Azura has a phrase built in to cancel it, though, so he can be sure he gets his Noir back when this is over, and not the doctor's zombie? Azura wouldn't want to risk having Noir under someone else's power."_

Solomon nodded. From all that he knew of Azura, it would be enough for him that he'd made Ray kill his own lover. He wouldn't want any other artificial hold over him, at least not one that he couldn't cancel himself. The trick would be in guessing what it would be.

Laila continued. "_What would you want to bet the phrase is something only he and Noir would use to each other?"_

Solomon stared at her. "_No wonder you and Ray are so good at solving codes...you think alike."_

Laila smiled weakly. _"We don't know what it is yet. Create a diversion."_

They didn't need to. At that moment, the small black cat came dashing out of the heating vent that Noir had used to enter the room, chasing a rat which headed straight for Azura and the doctor. As the rat ran up the doctor's pant leg, the black cat clawed its way across Azura's back and shoulders.

Noir turned to look. Florian took the opportunity to tackle him and knocked his gun arm up, shoving him towards Solomon and Laila. Ray's gun went off, missing Florian by a hairbreadth as he dove for his own gun, which was still abandoned where it had been dropped, Ray having kept everyone frozen in place.

Finding that to be his last bullet, Noir scrambled free of Laila who tried to restrain him, and went after Florian, who had retrieved his gun. Florian aimed at Azura, but didn't want to risk injuring the cat. Finding that impossible, he shot the hypnotist instead, a non-fatal shoulder shot but enough to put him out of action.

At that point, unfortunately, the wrist of Florian's gun arm was grabbed from behind and twisted, making him drop the gun, while a second strong arm wrapped around his throat, cutting off his breath. He tried ineffectually to pull at the wiry arm that was choking him to death but soon lost his strength as his vision clouded.

Throughout all of this action, Laila and Solomon were shouting phrases at Noir, in French, German, and English. Once Azura won clear of the cat and realized what they were doing, he sat back in his throne chair and started laughing, ignoring not only the injury to his last henchman, the hypnotist, but the threat to himself when Florian turned the gun on him. Azura seemed delighted by each turn of events, until finally, with the final one, he appeared to have won..

As Noir throttled his lover, there was no sign of indecision on his face, the external battle seemed to have drowned out the internal one.

.

"_**You are the enemy, I can see that clearly now. I will not permit you to harm my brother**__."_

"_Berber! He's speaking Berber!" Laila cried. "_**Shades of the 'Holy Grail' adventure!"**

No sooner did he hear the words "Holy Grail" spoken in his childhood tongue, than Ray looked up, startled. Immediately, his eyes cleared and he loosened his hold, causing Florian to fall to the ground. Noir retained his wits enough to swoop down and grab the gun, and he held it firmly, pointing it at Azura.

The tall blond stood up and locked eyes with Noir.

"**Have you regained yourself... my brother?" Azura asked quietly.**

Noir was shaking where he stood. He reached a hand up to his head for a moment, then swept his emerald gaze around the blood splattered room, from the bodies strewn all around it, to Florian crouching at his feet, to his two loyal friends holding onto each other's battered bodies a few feet away.

"**Leave here, Azura...within sixty seconds...or I shall ask Florian to kill you. And there will be no taking the order away...my brother."**

Azura nodded and strolled from the room without a backward glance. He knew he would be seeking his blood brother, his black cat, again.

Noir stood by the railing at the bow of the ship, looking out over the waves, smoking one of his expensive thin cigars. If you didn't look too closely, Solomon thought, you might think him unchanged from the man who'd left France's shores a few months ago for a business trip.

"A pleasant evening," Solomon offered as an opening comment as he walked up to stand by the other man's side. Ray could either respond in kind or he could be his former snide self if he wished to be alone. Solomon was content to let the younger man set the tone of how they would proceed.

"Indeed. Would you care for a cheroot?" Ray held out a cigar. Their hands brushed.

Solomon smiled, but it was an inward smile. His outer expression was neutral. Cats could be fussy creatures and they preferred to do the chasing, he knew. This one, it seemed, would deign to accept his company finally. He looked down at the offered cigar.

"No thanks. Not a good idea to develop expensive tastes that I cannot afford to indulge," Solomon remarked with a grin.

Ray's eyes flickered over toward the older man. "Oh, I don't know about that. I imagine Florian and Laila owe you quite a bit for that last assignment. Have they paid you yet?"

"I don't think I can collect when I ended up needing rescue before the end. I consider myself in Florian's debt," Solomon said lightly. "And your's, for that matter. Thank you for returning."

Ray frowned. "Sugar..."

"No, Ray...we're even. I'd like to think that I didn't do anything that you wouldn't do for me if our situations were reversed."

Green eyes met blue for a long moment and then dropped. "Yes...you're right...damn you." Then he grinned his own roguish grin. Solomon was charmed. "I was rather hoping you'd give me something else I could add to Florian's debt, you know."

Solomon laughed, a rich, deep laugh.

"I heard that," a mellow tenor voice joined the conversation.

"I should hope so, we're talking loudly enough," Ray retorted. "Come on out here, intrepid Florian, supersleuth."

Florian walked up and leaned over the railing, shuddering delicately. "Promise me something. Promise me that you'll _never_ make me travel with Laila again. Or, if you must get kidnapped again, Ray, please do it in a country that serves decent food, or better yet, just let Laila rescue you. She frightens me, she really does."

Florian allowed Ray to pull him close and kiss him quickly, protected as they were by the shadows of the evening.

"Where is Laila now, by the way?" Solomon asked, sharing a grin of commiseration with Noir when Florian's ideas of propriety made him pull away quickly and straighten his tie. If Noir's wink in response gave Solomon a sudden flash of memory of a young man who dropped his pants in invitation in a shadowy street corner, he quickly shoved it to a deep recess of his mind.

Florian was rolling his eyes in exasperation over Laila's antics.

"She's down in the Captain's quarters as we speak, arguing with the poor man over trying to put Shadow, her new pet feline, in the hold. I don't know why she's bothering. Nothing keeps that cat where it doesn't want to be. Every time one of the crew takes him down there, he ends up back in one of our rooms anyway so she may as well be gracious about it," Florian told them.

Ray pulled him close as Florian rolled his amethyst eyes in exasperation.

Noir and Solomon shared another moment of camaraderie as they encouraged Florian to tell them more about his travels with Laila. If they perhaps recalled their own very different experiences traveling together, they tacitly agreed it was a tale better kept to themselves.

Noir had recovered the love of his life in his amethyst-eyed man and was more grateful than he knew how to express. But he'd learned to his surprise that he had a gem of a different type and perhaps a friend beyond value where he'd never thought to look. Perhaps they'd all found more than a black cat in this trip, he mused.


End file.
